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| AND NOW, THE END IS NEAR
Friday, March 17, 2023
I have both successes and failures on things where I failed to seek advice, ones where I sought advice and ignored much of it, and ones where I had unsolicited advice lectured/foisted/imposed upon me by well-meaning (so they said at the time) parents, teachers, bosses, clients, and friends. I remember how that felt as clearly and visceral now as I felt it then. These memories are imprinted in our brains, perhaps seared.
I did it my way.
I recall this song – not as an anthem, but as validation of what we all need to own the skin we wear, the path we take, and the imprints we leave. There is no going back; our life is not a transmission with a reverse gear; there are no do-overs, only do again, but better. And do differently.
Of course, success is wonderful, but avoiding failure is also a measure of accomplishment. It’s good to make a fair return on something safe, but most would agree it feels better when we take risks and reap a better reward. I have love/hate feelings about the term ‘risk-reward continuum’ tossed around, something I too often hear from platform talks by gurus in my industry because there is a vast difference between the person who caught a great break when it was someone else’s money he was risking. I prefer hearing from those who tell their stories, acknowledging the best of their results and the worst mishaps. There is a reason that institutional investors like pension funds and life insurance companies get steady low returns. Because they mathematically and strategically measure risk and work it out of the equation, they invest in the best low-mid-risk things in the middle of the best markets. And they buy when the market isn’t volatile. Sometimes they pay too much to win but rarely regret that in the long run. They rarely get caught with their pants down from doing something stupid, high-risk, or entrepreneurial.
The measure we all must take is how comfortable we are with our choices – which I’ve learned is not when we bet on a roll of some dice or what someone brags are a sure thing.
We bet on people, not because they dump good advice on us or because they ask us for ours, but because they ask questions like, “What do you think?” or they tell stories of something that happened to them that worked or failed, or failed at first and then they made it work. It seems the best collaborations come from relationships with people who’ve done it their way.
We get some wins, some losses, and occasional glory days amid too many pratfalls. Those are not the home-run hitters who strike out 2/3rds of the time. And those distance runners are steady, reliable and unrelenting. They’ll tell you if you ask they did it their way.
Advice is great. Great advice is better. Mom knows best. Father knows best.
Well, that’s just as likely to be poppycock we get cross-threaded on early in life, and I think it sticks with us like so many habits. I won’t call them bad or good, but ‘not good for us’ is a better description.
If asking for advice happens only when we know we’ll get the answer we want so we can go ahead to do what we want to do, then that’s playing amateur night game theory, not asking for advice, but if that satisfies you or justifies a choice, well go ahead then.
Not asking for advice can be wise – a way forward, so nobody gets in our way or alters our trajectory; this is common for extremely wise, successful savant-like types, for failures and fools, and expect a survey of adults with ADHD would score highly here.
When I started writing this piece, I was thinking about how to explain twenty years of writing Musing columns every day. I got lots of advice; some of it I sought, and much of it came from well-meaning people who delivered solid advice, but most of that was flawed.
Of all I sought, of all I got, I ignored some I shouldn’t have, took some I shouldn’t have and do not regret for a moment that through it all when there was doubt, I ate It up and spit it out.
I did it my way.
And now, the end is near (Sunday the 19th is the last day of winter and the last day of the 20th year of Musings), but that is not the end of the story, but instead time to open the next chapter.
And now, I face the final curtain; it’s not coming down – it is rising to reveal and celebrate the new show. It’s not perfect; it needs more rehearsals and re-writing, pratfalls, bone-headed faux pas moments (indeed, I’ve had more than a lifetime supply of those) to finally take advantage of all the lessons learned and good advice I’ve ignored.
The first day of spring is coming for all of us; three more sleeps …
Reader feedback:
When I turned 50, I publically declared the start of my Golden Years and made the personal commitment that 'the best years were ahead.' That was in April 2019. It took three years - in spite of the historic forces of this time period, I have manifested all the Golden and Best that seemed so unlikely through the last 3 years. It's possible. Never let anyone tell you otherwise, JB, Edmonton, AB
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